


» Ready to Comply «

by sebaestianstan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Triggers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, mcu - Freeform, more to be added - Freeform, trigger fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:18:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebaestianstan/pseuds/sebaestianstan
Summary: A short collection of drabbles, one for each trigger word.I. желание – longing





	» Ready to Comply «

**Author's Note:**

> # the desire for something far out of your reach.
> 
> # 

It is the tingling you feel in the pit of your stomach which starts with a warm pooling that twists your insides in an exciting way, making you all drowsy and your fingertips itch with want. It doesn't take long until this sensation moves from your belly to your stomach, up your chest to your throat from where it spreads throughout your whole body, setting it on fire in such an intensity it makes your knees go weak, makes your legs buckle in. 

Your arms grow numb and your fingers prickle. Maybe your eyes get teary from the overwhelming emotions that you are threatening to drown in. Your head starts to spin as a sheer innumerable amount of thoughts floods your brain, showing you images of yourself and the final aim of your longing that made you feel like that in the first place. 

Usually starting as a nice feeling, reminding you of all the good things that are out there, it quickly grows cold. Because you know, that this feeling will never stop. You won't get a happy ever after, neither will you feel the fulfillment one should get at some point after this feeling kicked in. Only good people deserve their longing to find an end. 

You are not a good person. At all. 

You are doomed to feel this way until the day you will release your final breath. Finally release it, because you have enough already. You know you do, but there is nothing you could do to stop it. They won't let you end it. And you can't do anything they don't want you to do. But you can do things you don't want to do because _they_ want you to do them. 

It doesn't matter what you want. What you long for. The only thing that matters is that you're functioning. And boy, you function as you climb up the building, dressed in your Kevlar that protects you. 

Half of your face covered underneath your mask that makes it hard to breathe, but that's fine. They want it that way. They want you to feel their control, even over your very own breath. It's not threatening your missions because you've been trained to breathe even with as little oxygen as possible in the air around you. They suffocated you. 

You can do this. 

They want you to know that you're owned. You belong to them, you are their property and there is nothing you could do about it. The only thing you do, in fact, is fulfilling their orders because that means they will send you back to sleep again. 

When you sleep, nothing hurts. It's peaceful. Cold, but, oh, so peaceful. Everything is quiet and you can just let go. Stop existing. Because your being, your life on this earth, hurts you. You know that it hasn't always been like that. 

Once upon a time, your life was happy, filled with blond hair, blue eyes and bruised knuckles you had to take care of. A skinny, warm body that cuddled up against you, the smell of cinnamon and apples filling your nose. 

Once upon a time, you were holding the dearest treasure you could imagine in your arms. But your life is not a fairytale. So you lost it. And you would never get it back. You know it, because when you reach the roof of the building and lie down flat on it, prepare yourself for the shot as you use your enhanced sight to aim for your target, you spot him. 

The man you have been following around whenever you could. 

Sometimes, when they send you on missions, your paths cross. You catch a glimpse of him now and then, but he never sees you. Because you are a ghost. His hair reflects the light and it looks so soft that you catch yourself wanting to run your fingers through it to make him smile. You know he would smile. 

His eyes would sparkle so warm despite them being blue because his heart is warm unlike yours. Your eyes are cold. Dead. It makes his eyes show his soul and it's beautiful. It's warm like a summer breeze, like the smell of selfmade ginger bread you remember from decades ago. It seems like a whole different life and yet you know it had been yours. 

This man does that. 

He makes you remember, makes you feel things you don't want to feel, aren't allowed to feel. He makes you long for a life you will never lead again. For a moment, you allow yourself to relish those fragile emotions his sight triggered in you because you know that soon again, they will make it stop. 

Everything stops when they strap you down on the chair and make you forget. All you can remember is the blinding, white light in your head that is so painful that it makes you scream. But it also releases you from this longing – and that's what you want. You know you aren't allowed to feel like this and you don't want to, because you also know you will never get it. 

You will never get this man that is standing inside of his apartment and is talking to your target. You know that he is leading a new life, that you lost your old life, that you lost yourself. And it's okay like that. 

A small part of you knows that you will remember him again. You always do. 

Because you can't stop longing for him. 

It doesn't matter if they make you forget again, if they torture you and form you back into their brainless puppet as soon as you finished your mission. Following their orders without questions, bathing yourself in blood for them. 

It doesn't matter if they put you back on ice for another year, another decade. Bringing you back, thawing the ice from your muscles and bones when they need you active again. 

Nothing matters because you know that you will remember him again, that you will long for him again . 

That's why you pull the trigger and shoot Nicholas J. Fury.


End file.
